


Stardust

by KRiley



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, First Kiss, Getting Together, Harmful Thoughts, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Pining, introspective, sander pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KRiley/pseuds/KRiley
Summary: Sander meets the love of his life with both their girlfriends no more than one wall away. This is how it goes. (See the notes for warnings.)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

Sander was used to feeling just a hair out of touch with the world. Like he was living his life with one foot in one universe, and the other in the next, where everything is almost the same but has just been moved two inches to the left, leaving him in the middle with no clue as to which universe is the right one. Most days he felt like a thin sheet of plexiglass was separating him from everyone else; people simply never seemed to get it, get him. How high the highs could be, how low the lows. What it felt like to be constantly terrified of hurting the people around you no matter if you were feeling on top of the world or being crushed beneath it's weight. And even if he didn't feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, convinced he'd either soar or plummet depending on the day, he was scared. Because how could you trust your own brain when it can't be reliable enough to remember to consistently do something as simple as taking your goddamn pills at a set time every day.

Sander likes art. Loves art. Needs it like air, in fact. Maybe because he felt like he was never fully in line with the people around him, he instead tended to revel in the extraordinary, the explosive, the colourful. The ability to capture, in more than words, a spectrum of emotions as broad as the one he could feel charging through his synapses on an average day. It makes him think of stardust in a grey world; it's the only thing that makes sense to him. 

Sander is like an explosion, destruction not unlike a supernova. Everything about him was loud, drew attention. Even if no one could hear or see him, it felt like he could never just fade into the background. Even his thoughts were too loud inside his own head most days. He could never just get along unnoticed, especially, so it seemed when he felt most removed from the rest of the world and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. To draw all that attention when he felt like his grasp on reality was tenuous at best only added to the discordant buzz at the back of his mind. 

Robbe is different.

Robbe is like stardust. Something about the boy, when Sander first laid eyes on him amid the fumes of art and spraypaint drew his lenze. He couldn't explain it, but something about the look in his eyes, even in the shadowed room, had drawn Sander to him. He'd wanted nothing more than to step forward, take the hand currently being held by what was apparently his girlfriend, and get him somewhere private, learn everything there was to learn about him. The way he stood there, clearly unfamiliar with the circumstance, the people, the cans of paint themselves awkward in his hands. But he wasn't backing down, letting himself be introduced to this strange and new thing. It intrigued Sander. His face, even behind the mask protecting him from breathing in the most damaging of the chemicals, seemed impossibly open to Sander. Sander, who had learned to cultivate the most careful of facades, felt like he was constantly trying to balance a narrow tightrope, making sure to never be too much of anything, acting out only in ways he hoped people wouldn't directly associate with his diagnosis. 

Britt had once told him she liked that about him, after she had inadvertedly found out about the bipolar disorder. She liked that she felt like she was the only one who really, truly knew him, because she knew how bad he could get. She'd told him not to worry, she didn't mind putting up with the fucked up side of the coinflip that was Sander's brain.

When Sander saw him again at the chalet that weekend, he didn't put together that Robbe was his speck of stardust right away. There was another word ricocheting unbidden through his mind as the boy stepped through the door. 

_Pretty._

The curls, the lips, the jawline, it send a ripple of nerves through him as Sander upped his cooler-than-thou spiel until he looked the boy in the eyes and recognised something there. Sander's hand lingered just a fraction of a moment as he introduced himself. 

Robbe. 

Stardust in human form had a name. 

And a girlfriend. Noor was how he put together that Sander hadn't somehow stumbled upon two seperate specks of stardust within days but that they were in fact one and the same and he was pretty, and kind, and his face still seemed to tell stories with looks alone. Sander found himself holding tightly onto the shopping cart with both hands to stop one of them from finding Robbe's. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd practiced this much self restraint, let alone this succesfully. It was as if he was fighting some primal instinct, some force within the universe drawing him in closer and closer. Stardust in between racks of groceries. And yet, Sander noticed as they walked, their surroundings almost seemed to liven up. As if being in the mere presence of Stardust, or rather, Robbe, made them more interesting, more worth their rsimple and plain existence. Later Sander would realize that he'd felt, despite the medication, Robbe make the world come into focus. No plexiglass seperating him, or artificial numbing down the edges of his emotions, but just them, just there. No facades, just honesty and simplicity.

It was the most genuinely himself Sander had ever felt. It was one of those things he'd spiral about sometimes, when his mind went down the drain, thoughts following each other up quicker than he could process them. Who was he? Really? Who was he besides the disorder? Was he even a person without it? Was that ever a possibility? A doctor once told him, when they tried a new medication, that 'it should help him feel more like himself'. Sander never figured out if it had helped at the time, simply because he had no idea of what baseline he ought to be returning to. In fact, that haunting sentence became such a strong trigger to more and more frequent spiralling thoughts they switched up medications again soon after. 

Sander never did quite figure out who he was supposed to be. He was confident, mostly. Didn't have any particular objections to his physicality and knew how to turn a phrase and a look to his advantage, but even the thought of the subject of his mental state coming up in any conversation made him want to retreat into the tiniest, remotest corner, both mentally and physically. He could make people laugh with his goofy antics, but as soon as they knew, he would be constantly toeing the line of making them laugh or frown in worry. He was creative, had en eye and a heart for art, but some days sticking to his studies in order to actually improve on his skills was the most difficult thing in the world, even if he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

With Robbe though, all those worries, that noise, seemed to fall away. The plexiglass, and constant current of thoughts running on a loop in the background of Sander's conciousness seemed to dissipate until nothing was left but blessed, eagerly awaited peace. Robbe, in Sander's eyes, was more than an open book. He was a wall to wall light projection of every thought that crossed his mind. Robbe wore his emotions so openly, no wonder he didn't feel comfortable being at the center of any sort of attention. Robbe's solution? He prefered to banish himself to the sidelines of any social group he found himself in the middle of, if only to maintain the frail cover of his privacy. Everything about the younger boy drew Sander in, and he found himself more desperate to impress him than he'd ever experienced before. 

But it seemed, the harder he tried, the more Robbe seemed to respond to the moments Sander was just himself, without any of the cocky confident persona there to protect Sander from that piercing look that didn't only project Robbe's inner world to the outside, but poked through every one of Sanders' defences with just as little trouble. Robbe brought his world into focus. Robbe was clarity. Certainty. Robbe was, in every way, the opposite of Britt. 

Their entire relationship had been based on her initiative. They'd met on accident, Britt waiting at the staircase for Noor to meet up at his school, when he'd dropped his binder of artwork as he walked down the final steps, hitting Britt in the ankle where she stood. "Ah, fock! Sorry hè!" Sander mumbled as he bent down to pick it up. He'd been in a rush, he had a meeting with a new potential therapist. When he finally looked up and saw the girl, his first thought was a rather simple one too. 

_You don't look like you go here._

Although he'd be amiss not to mention that he could see the prettiness in her as well, it simply hadn't struck a chord like it had with Robbe. Britt had smiled at him, eyes looking him up and down as she twirled a piece of hair behind her ear. "You can make it up to me by giving me your number?" 

And she had a pretty smile, and glossy lips and Sander, who had felt the plexiglass grow thicker and thicker with every failed attempt at succefully medicating his condition just wanted to be normal. Like any teenager, with a relationship to sigh over and complain about. So he said yes.

The relationship warped into some strange parody of itself, where they broke up about every other week, both on Britt's initiative and his own. She kept coming back, though, and pretending like their conversations, or the yelling and the arguing had simply never happened. And he took it. Figured maybe this is just what relationships were like, for him. Maybe his condition made it impossible for him to have the quiet, peaceful sort of love he saw in movies and books. This deep understanding, of just getting each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces, maybe that simply wasn't for him. Maybe something about his edges made him clash with everyone who tried to get close to him, and this, someone who would come back anyway, who would crash right into those jagged lines and come back anyway, was the best he could hope for. They'd been dating, or together, or boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever label Britt had given them at the time, for just under a month when he was stupid enough to leave a referrel note for a psychiatrists office out on the table in his student house. Amd thus he ended up explaining to her about bipolar, and he was getting treatment, and why he hadn't texted her all week. Explained how his lows exhausted him, where any interaction was too much. Britt had sat in his lap and kissed him, and so another subject was tabled without ever really being talked about. Britt assigned herself a new title. His keeper. Where they'd had discussion and arguments before and ignored them only to pick right back up where they were, he could practically see it in her eyes, see her blaming whatever he said and she didn't like on the disorder instead of just believing him.

But she stayed. Even his greatest secret and shame hadn't scared her away, and eventually, as time passed, whatever this new baseline was, it became easy, became his new normal.

And then whatever normal was detonated like a nuclear power plant. That week spent with strangers at a chalet near the sea was quickly redubbed 'the week Sander met the love of his life with both their girlfriends right there'. He remembers the static that took over his brain as he walked away from Robbe, leaving him on his own at the trashcans. He'd ask himself what he had been tinking if he wasn't so sure he simply hadn't been. The more time they spent together, the more the draw Robbe seemed to have on him seemed to strengthen.

That first kiss was more than Sander had ever dared hope for. He'd jumped in the water, happy and free and laughing without worrying whether he was okay or going manic, and he couldn't tell if it had been the cold that had sucked the breath from his lungs or seeing Robbe take off his clothes to join him in the freezing pool. Sander had moved in for the kiss before he even realised, Robbe simply too close and too... Him to stop himself. When the younger boy retreated Sander joked it off, casually on the outside but with his mind racing a thousand miles an hour. Had he misjudged? He thought Robbe felt the pull too? Had he simply been imagining things again? Did Robbe not like him after a-

When Robbe moved in for the kiss as soon as they were underwater, Sander's perception of time warped, reduced to the heartbeats that counted down the distance between them. The spiral of thoughts, seemingly imminent, stopped dead in its tracks with a simple press of Robbe's lips to his. Breaking the surface of the water felt like rebirth, and the gasps in between presses of lips and tongues like learning how to breathe anew. One kiss, and Sander was changed. Because maybe this? It did exist after all, this soft, kind, happy love. Even for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for canon typical homophobia! Be careful! Also, I've said it before, but it bears repeating, Sander is not in a good headspace and thinks not so greatly about himself. Also people in general not handling a mental disease well. Beware my lovelies, be kind to yourself and take your meds as prescribed.

When Robbe pushed him away the next day, it hurt. It hurt because Sander could still read Robbe. He saw Robbe's pain, his fear, the panic and desperation. He knew their connection was real, was sure of nothing if not that after their evening. 

But Robbe pushed him away; with sharp words and a shove. The brief thought of having forced himself on the boy sent a flash of nausea though him, but one look into his eyes and Sander saw the frantic look, the animal fear. Maybe Robbe wasn't ready to be out. Maybe he just sensed Sander was no good for him. Either way, Robbe was terrified. He doesn't even know yet and I'm already too much for him. 

When Robbe showed up outside his life drawing class, Sander couldn't bare to look at him for too long. He could almost hear the conversation in his head, didn't want to have to reassure Robbe he wouldn't tell anyone about their evening, or something else he expected to have to promise Robbe in that same vein. That night was sacrosanct to Sander, and he couldn't stand the thought of having to diminish it. So Sander shook him off and walked away, gripping his bag tighter with every step. He was stronger than this, he needn't hurt anymore over this memory. He was allowed to walk away from the person he was in love with (already? Yes.) and keep his evening perfect and untarnished in a box in a happy corner in his mind. He was. He wanted to be strong enough. 

Maybe he was a sadomasochist as well as a psychopath, because as soon as he grabbed his jacket from round the corner of his classroom he was, if not running, then certainly walking very speedily, back, eyes desperately scanning the throngs of people for a head of brown curls. He found him fighting his bikelock and Sander took a breath to steady himself. One minute, he promised himself. One minute, to see Robbe one more time, say his goodbyes, maybe, if he's lucky, get some closure. Maybe two minutes, to keep things calm and civil. No more than five.

He was so grateful he went after Robbe that afternoon. When Robbe defied both their fears and instead of begging him to forget everything, give him another chance instead, Sander quickly found himself gravitating into Robbe's personal space again. It went chernobyl in my head. Yeah, Sander knew what that was like. He decided then and there Robbe was forgiven, but couldn't help the tease as he tried to fight that inexplicable draw to his lips. Fuck chernobyl, indeed. He promised himself one kiss. A peck, nothing more. Robbe still wasn't out, and it was long past time for Sander to break up with Britt and make sure it stuck this time. But Robbe was Robbe, and Robbe was stardust and how does a mere mortal like Sander resist stardust? He goes in for another kiss. 

When Robbe presses into him all Sander's plans are nullified instantly. He refamiliarizes himself with the feeling of breathing without a metal band constricting his chest, getting lost in the press of lips and stars aligning. The irony of Britt's call interrupting them is not lost on him, and he hurries his reassurance to Robbe when he sees him retract into himself at the flash of the name on his cracked phone screen. He hadn't realised quite how tightly he was holding on to Robbe until he almost fell over when he was forced to release him. He might have looked over his shoulder a time or two again, just to see the form of Robbe as Sander retreated.

He talks to Britt, tells her he's done, for good this time, and the next day he makes his way over to Robbe as soon as his classes let out. This is the love he thought he'd only ever hear of in stories, and it's better than he had dared imagine. It is heaven. They talk, and they laugh, and they kiss, and listen to music and listen to each other, and did he mention, they kiss? Kissing Robbe is the final proof Sander needs. Robbe can't just be human, must be stardust, no a supernova, because Sander can't imagine anything sweeter, anything kinder or better. 

Leaving a bed has never been more difficult, but Sander needs to drop by his room to grab his supplies for an early class the next day and Robbe has homework to do. The only actual reason they can be convinced to let go of each other is because they agree to go out for drinks friday. Like a proper date night.

Proper date night starts out incredible. They're already falling into an ease, a familiarity with touching and talking and Robbe is so confident like this, doesn't even think about reaching for Sander and kissing him right here in public and it makes Sander believe in a future where he is happy. Robbe is magic, literally tranformed before him. When they eventually stumble out of the bar towards their bikes he can't find it within himself to withdraw from Robbe so much as an inch. Until he has to. 

When he hears the guys cajoling them, calling them names, he is initially angry for interupting their unbridled bliss. It's like some animal instinct grips both Robbe and Sander because they release each other and move stoically to their bikes in tandem. They move quicker once they notice the group of four clos in. Pulling on locks and bikes, running start, get on, get away from them and one of them runs past Sander, drags Robbe off bis bike to the ground and Sander feels the haze of fury wash over him. He runs forward, bike forgotten, manages to shove the one who dared touch the younger boy away from but then he's being dragged backwards by a hard yank on his jacket, away from Robbe as both of them are railed on by two men each. Sander manages to stay standing until the third punch hits him in the temple, world momentarily going dark as he slumps into the wall at his back. Sander curls up, instinct protecting his head as he feels kicks and stomps rain down hellfire. He remembers hoping they wouldn't break his hand. He has a project he needs to get finished for school next monday. 

The guys run off, eventually, and it takes Sander a second to realise it. He carefully flexes muscles as he moves his limbs one by one, pain searing through is lower stomach, face throbbing and there's definitily something wrong with his ankle. He and Robbe recover almist simultaneously, moving towards each other over the ground, shaking hands finding each other. They don't speak much. Sander can feel a headache setting in, but they shakily pick up their bikes, put them on the outside and walk close together. He remembers dropping Robbe off at his place. He'd felt unable to say much safe for a few whispered quiet things. 

_Are you-?_

I'm...

_Okay, okay._

Let's just...

_Let's go._

Sander doesn't know, can't focus on what to say, what to do. How do you make this better? How do you solve this? Instead, before Robbe dissappears through the door he just squeezes his hand one more time, can't really bare to look at him and says. Talk later, yeah? Yeah.

When Sander wakes the next day, everything hurts ten times worse. He foregoes his usual meds in favour of the strongest painkillers they have lying around the house. He's slept maybe three hours and when Britt is stood pounding at his front foor not 20 minutes later his head is spinning, his mouth is dry and everything feels... distant. 

He couldn't have repeated anything Britt had said if you'd paid him. Not a word is mentioned of the break-up, and Sander can't get himself to open his mouth. She walks through his room, kicking his dirty laundry aside. She might be saying something about the mess littering the floor but he hears none of it. Hears nothing, not until he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and sees the flash of Robbe's profile pic on the screen. He rushes out into the hallway, closing the door behing him as he settles on the stairs and picks up.

Seeing the first flash of his love, beaten, bruised and pale from the lack of sleep does more to calm his nerves than the painkillers. They don't talk for long because Sander can hear Britt slamming about behind him, and god why won't she just leave?!

He hangs up, some far away part of his brain registering that his talk with Robbe hadn't ended well. But he couldn't seem to focus on that now, instead, slamming his way back inside the student home, anger mounting to a breaking point. Britt froze mid stride and mid sentence apparently, staring him down right back. 

"What are you even doing here?" Sander eventually blows up at her. "Didn't you hear me? Have you forgotten how to read? What part of my texts was unclear? It's over. We're done. Leave!"

And Britt... Britt scoffs. Rolls her eyes. "I realise new meds can be hard on you Sander, but there's no need to make this so unpleasant." Sander is stumped, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had appeared in the first place. Britt walks over to where she'd dropped her bag on the table. "You're lucky I know better and I don't let myself be scared away. We're going to that party tonight. Noor invited us. Apparently, Robbe takes after Jens in the asshole department." She cuts him a sharp look. "I trust you to at least realise this new obsession of yours ought to be over and done with sooner rather than later. Pick me up at 20:00, and make sure you drop that mood by then." She leaves. Doesn't even slam the door on her way out.

Sander didn't get a word in, so when the quiet returns he is left with all he wanted to say running circles in his head.

_You're lucky I know better._

He had forgotten. In all his euphoria of having Robbe finally there, he'd forgotten that he, Sander, was never going to be good enough for this kind of love. Britt was jealous, possessive, controlling. She wasn't a bad person, but certainly not a perfectly good one either. Sander had known this from the beginning, but he had also known he wasn't exactly better than her. He was flighty, easily distracted, neglectful. A bad person to be in a relationship with. They complimented each other like that. He knew Robbe must feel something real for him, to risk everything as he had, but Robbe already had the fucked up relationship between his mom and dad to content with. It would be downright cruel to impose upon him the bullshit that a relationship with Sander would bring into the mix. Britt wasn't a great person, but maybe that was what Sander deserved. 

He goes to the party, and every time he kisses Britt he is thrown back violently to the realisation that this is the best he will ever know. When Noor finds them at a certain point in the evening, it is clear her own mood has been shot. "What is it?" Britt asks, confused, half shouting over the music.  
"Robbe was here, but he took off without so much as an apology."

And Sander goes cold. Robbe had been here. Had he seen them? Why had he left? Should he go after him-

Britt shrugs, still in his arms. "Let him be. He's not worth it." It's a good thing the flashing lights hide how pale Sander has gone. He doesn't agree with the second statement, Robbe is worth everything, but the first... feels more like it is spoken to him than anything else. Let him be. Release him. 

Sander stays at the party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I said I'd update this sooner and then I didn't. Quelle surprise. On the flip side, I have finished this story in full and will be uploading the chapters in the days to come! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next one!

The following days he spends mostly locked in his room. He goes to school, sits at the back of class and doesn't hear a thing the professors say. The plexiglass grows thicker and sturdier. He can't bring himself to talk or interact with any of his friends, let alone Britt. He scrolls aimlessly through Instagram, can't help but migrate to Robbe's and barely registers himself liking multiple pictures. He texts Robbe a few times, every time intent that this time he'll just say sorry, ask for another chance, or at leats a chance to explain what happened, anything, really. Every time he chickens out, send him a picture of an art piece he found, or just some inane comment on his school day.

Robbe leaves him on read, and Sander can't find it within himself to be mad about it.

When Sander runs into Robbe and Jens at the café, his breath catches. Sander is grateful that he has a few scant moments of saying hello to the taller boy to collect and steel himself before he has to face Robbe head on. Jens greets him normally, which Sander takes to mean that Robbe hasn't told Jens what happened. And then there are no distractions left. Robbe looks better, the cuts and bruises have faded, but he doesn't really look at him. Sander figures he shouldn't give into the urge to burst into to tears and beg for forgiveness quite so publicly, so he tries to break the ice with a lame joke, tries signalling to Robbe he hasn't forgotten them, and wants what they have back. At Robbe's response, Sander is painfully reminded that it was ice that ended up sinking the Titanic. Robbe's face and voice are an impenetrable wall. He shoots him one venomous look before pushing past Sander to join Jens at a table. Sander wants to go after him, but turns away instead, wandering off into the rain. 

Friday comes, and Sander feels it like a tremor that starts in his brain and waves through his entire body. He skips school, ignores his phone, walks around his room, alternating between humming and complete silence. He tries listening to music, but the feeling of his headphones pressing down is too much and he rips them off not a minute later, instead letting the music play on full blast from his laptop. He shuts that down too after a few moments. He can't sit still, everything is both too much stimulation and not enough all at once. He bites his lip until he tastes blood, and worries at the beds of his fingernails with his teeth until they do the same. In his head there's constant stream of memories running through the events of the past week which he desperately tries to block out, but only ends up obsessing over the multitudes of ways he could have prevented things from going the way they had. It is dark out as he gets on his bike and rides, all the way to the harbour. The wind is freezing, whipping around him as his paint cans clunk against each other in his bag. He pulls a scarf up in front of his mouth, and gets to work. He has just enough light from the harbour at night to work by, and he doesn't stop until he is finished. Robbe's face is staring back at him by the time the early dawn light colours the sky. 

His head hasn't felt this clear in weeks. He is tired, exhausted down to the very marrow of his bones as he tosses the paint cans back in his bag and takes off his gloves. His ride back home takes a lot longer, his limbs and head now heavy. He collapses onto his bed and sleeps for 12 hours.

He hadn't quite expected Robbe to discover the mural so quickly. On the other hand, he knew the Brrrothers hung out there often so maybe he had hoped for it in some way. The post is made to Instagram on Saturday, but he doesn't get the first text until Tuesday. What is the meaning of this? Good question. if only Sander knew. He has no reply, doesn't know how to explain himself in text so he doesn't, leaves the message unanswered.

The week he spends finding every last item of Britt's that has made its way between his stuff during the months they had been together, earrings, clothes, books, collecting them in a box and leaving it on the kitchen table. He texts her, tells her she can pick it up and to keep anything of his she might have laying around still. It's done and over with between them and Sander feels like half the weight has cleared off his shoulders with that one text alone. When he returns from school on Wednesday, the box has disappeared, and so he assumes has Britt. Finally. 

When Sander gets the message on Friday, panic sets in almost immediately. /I want clarity. Either you choose me. Or this stops right now./

He's done at school at 5PM, and makes his way over to Robbe's building. He figured it might be some time, so he settles in at the busstop across the street, hood pulled over his ears against the cold. He sketches until his fingers become too cold the hold the pencil properly, and every now and then his eyes glaze over as he gets lost in thought. What if Robbe says he doesn't want him anymore anyway, what if he's too late? He's hurt him too much. And if he hasn't yet, what of the future? What happens later? It takes longer than he expected, but the time and cold melt away when he sees Robbe get of his bike across the street. He hadn't noticed it, but that same familiar feeling of the plexiglass shattering overtakes him at the sight of the brown haired boy. Sander jumps up, barely checks for traffic as he hurries across the street. He catches the door as it is about to slam closed and there he is. When Robbe looks up at him, his breath stalls for a second. He steps in slowly, like there are eggshells beneath his docs waiting to be crushed. He can't imagine he's very welcome right this moment, waiting for Robbe to lash out as he makes his way over.

It's like gravity itself is pulling him closer. When he stands before him, Sander can't help but lean into a kiss, soft, uncertain in ways no other kiss has been so far. Robbe doesn't flinch, doesn't sock him in the jaw, indulges him for a moment before pushing him back lightly. It still feels like being punched in the chest. Sander crumples in on himself, but Robbe is before him, and instead he ends up leaning against the shorter boy, breathing him in, relishing. Sander makes up his mind. 

He nudges at him, waits until Robbe's eyes find his. He has made his decision.

"You and me. 100%, forever. In every universe." And when he kisses him this time, it's like the familiar slotting together of puzzle pieces.

Robbe. His little speck of stardust become human. He can't imagine how he did this these past weeks, how he went even a moment without having this, having Robbe right here in his arms. They cling, kiss, taste and hold each other, the plexiglass well and truly shattered.

Sander wakes early, as he usually does. His brain tends to be too loud to stay asleep for more than 5 hours. Robbe is cuddled up next to him, soundly asleep. Sander hadn't missed the dark circles under his eyes when he'd seen him again so he lays as still as he can, desperate not to wake him. He must have had a harsh week of it as well. Robbe had told him some of the things he'd been going through late last night when they could stand to break away from kissing and touching each other for more than a scant few seconds, about his friends, and their reactions. The anger at some of it that had taken possession of Sander had surprised him, and he hadn't felt entirely entitled to it either when he took his part in it into account. 

Robbe is soft with sleep in his arms when Sander, after two hours of quietly stroking a hand through his hair, decides he's getting them breakfast. He slowly and carefully disentangles himself from the softly snoring boy and gets dressed. Checking his phone, he sees it's a few minutes past 9 AM. He knows a place nearby that should be open by now, and tiptoes his way out the door to the hallways, letting the front door slot into the lock as quietly as he can in the silence of the flatshare. 

The cold of the morning wakes him properly as he makes the 15 minute walk to the bakery. It's not too busy, and he's grateful for the warmth of the store to thaw his frozen fingers, but doesn't linger too long to make conversation with the woman behind the till. 

If Zoë is surprised to see him at the door when he returns, she doesn't show it, but then she did also seem rather occupied. She lets him in with quick smile and informs him quietly that the boys are in the kitchen. _Fuck_. He'd hoped to surprise Robbe with breakfast in bed. Oh well, this will do too.

He pokes his head around the corner form where he can hear soft voices coming, sees Robbe in a t-shirt only, sitting on the table looking more than a little dejected. That won't do, he decides promptly. He steps into the kitchen, announcing his return and his spoils. The smile on Robbe's face is worth everything and Sander is almost taken by surprise by the strength of the kiss. On of Robbe's roommates, Milan if he remembers correctly, grabs the bag from his hand while Robbe is wrapped around him. "Ooh, your boyfriend has got good taste!" Sander locks his eyes on Robbe, but his response to the affirmative is lost when Robbe grabs the collar of his jacket and orders him along. And really, who is Sander to refuse. He follows him happily, quite unconcerned with social niceties as he eagerly follows Robbe back to his bedroom. 

The frown is back, although significantly smaller by the time they get there and close the door behind them. Sander, moving backwards, sits down in the bed and pulls Robbe with him, who hesitates and then finally says what had been bothering him. He thought he'd left, again. the last part is unspoken, but Sander's heart cracks a little at the admission. He should have left him a note. 

After all, what basis did Robbe have for trusting him. His resolve was an immediate response. the only solution would be to prove to him that Robbe would not lose him again. Unless or until Robbe sent him away, Sander was staying. The mention of Britt hurts as well, so he tries to shrug it off, but Robbe insists. He makes eye contact, and in his mind renews the vow he made yesterday as he promises Robbe out loud that he has put an end to it. For good. And if Robbe doesn't believe him yet, he will keep reassuring him until he does. Seeing the tentiative smile pull on the corners of Robbe's mouth is like a ray of light striking him in the heart. Sander flips them in one movement, lets Robbe feel his body pressing down on him as he solemnly makes his vows: "I'm holding onto you. And I'm never, ever letting go."

Sander stays the weekend, not going home until he is basically forced to to do his homework Sunday, with a promise to text Robbe about meeting up again as soon as possible. They're both busy, but by Tuesday afternoon Sander is getting impatient. Robbe has a short day today, he knows, so he skips his last classes and waits for Robbe outside the gates. He knows Robbe isn't all that used to being out yet, but his friends have calmed down about it. He thinks about Pride in half a year, how they're going to spend it together and he wants Robbe to be proud of them, of himself. 

His thoughts are rudely interrupted when he feels the pull on the back of his jacket. He turns to look on instinct when a hand connects with his face in a stinging slap. 

Britt. Figures.

The anger that takes over him at the sight of her pumps through his veins like poison. How dare she. He knows the feeling of being trapped hadn't been her doing, not entirely, but she had spent months dismissing him and his feelings on the basis of his disorder, and he was done. he wanted to be free, to be himself finally, and he wasn't about to let Britt pull him back. The fact hat there's genuine surprise on her face barely registers, the anger all-consuming. Why should he care she hadn't believed him? He might have invested in this fake fairytale, but she had bene just as guilty, and he was done indulging her. 

Walking with Robbe calms him down, the feeling of his body solid and close next to him. He leans into his warmth without even noticing. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's December and you probably know what that means. Disclaimer, I do not have bipolar disorder, this is just an account of what I imagine an episode might feel like. Vague allusions to su•cide without mentioning the word, but implications are there.

Wednesday is occupied by studying so even though it's late, he has a plan, and makes his way over on Thursday. He revels in this, in every kiss he gets to press against his lips, every moment he gets to hold Robbe in his arms and every smile he pulls form his face. They might have patched up their issues, but Sander knows Robbe has a tough time of it nonetheless, so he's planned a surprise, just the two of them, no inconveniently thin walls or roommates to disturb them. He promises to stay the night, only to set up the kitchen as he intended. He had warned Robbe he'd have to take off early to make it to class, and although Robbe rouses slightly, he is easily acquiesced with a kiss and a promise to speak with him later. Sander had bought stores of candy and gets to work quietly in the kitchen, putting the vegetable back in the fridge and scattering wrapped chocolate coins and goodies around, arranging them carefully, sparing a momentary thought for the crumbs that hopefully wouldn't ruin Robbe's shoe forever.

All is still quiet as he leaves the apartment, making his way to the nearest busstop to make it to his class. He drops by his own place to pick up the costume he rented, brings it with him to check-in and gets changed at the hotel, pacing his way up and down the room until it's about 15 minutes before the agreed upon time to meet. He gets into the full costume, beard and wig itching terribly in ways he hadn't anticipated and waits at the door of the hotel. He hadn't really accounted for the od kids that walk by that want to say hello, but he waves at them and forces his voice to drop an octave when he promises them to come by to drop off their presents tonight. His heart skips a beat when he sees Robbe pull up on his bike. The family that had last spotted him moves on just in time for him to sneak up behind Robbe. He can see him take in his ensemble with slight incredulity, but Sander maintains that it was a brilliant set-up. After all, he played Sinterklaas with the whole shoe thing already, he ought to stick to the bit.

He guides Robbe upstairs to the suite, giddy excitement crawling up his throat. He keeps turning back to watch the brunet as he follows Sander up the stairs, seeing the same excitement reflected back at him. As soon as the door closes behind them, Sander gives in and pushes Robbe up against the wood with a kiss. Robbe laughs into it. "Your beard tickles." His hands push underneath the red velvet cloak, bunching up the white robe underneath. "Think you could take it off?" He doesn't just mean the beard.

Sander complies, relieved to be free of the hot garments. When Robbe's hands move for his t-shirt next with a telling glint in his eyes, Sander has to make himself restrain him. "Nuh-uh-uh, not so greedy Mister Ijzermans. I'm properly wooing you tonight. And dinner is part of that." He gestures to the small table in the corner where he'd readied a bottle of champagne and the roomservice menu, drawing Robbe over. He lights the candle he'd brought with him, safety rules be damned, and even pulls out Robbe's chair for him. The food they order gets brought up deceptively quickly, or maybe Sander just loses time getting to talk with Robbe and kiss him and revel in him being here. They eat, feeding each other bites of food, savouring every mouthful. Sande never thought he'd have a thing for the way someone eats their food, but this is Robbe, he thinks to himself, he really shouldn't be surprised anymore at this point. Sander chalks the continuous bouncing of his leg up to the excitement of finally having Robbe truly to himself, along with his wandering focus. He'd say it was the plexiglass building up, but he was here with Robbe. The plexiglass had no place here. Quietly chastising himself when he notices he's missed some part of a story Robbe is telling about Milan and Zoë, he forces his attention back to the boy in front of him. He still can't focus on what Robbe is saying, and before he realises he's made the decision to lean in, he's kissing him. 

Robbe responds, opening his mouth on a quiet whine and all Sander can think about is that it's his favourite sound in the whole entire world, Bowie be damned. Sander pulls him up to stand, without letting up from the kiss. Robbe's hands, as if on instinct, start wandering beneath Sander's shirt again. Sander makes the decision for them both and pulls it of altogether, chucking it across the room. He tangles his fingers with Robbe's, and, still holding on, he pulls him along to the bathroom.

Sander knew Robbe hadn't slept with anyone yet. He'd admitted it, among a lot of stammering and very red tinged cheeks, when Sander had spent an entire Saturday with him in bed and they'd discussed past relationships. Robbe had told him about Noor and that particular

disastrous set of evenings, and they had a good laugh about the blessing in disguise that ended up being the Brrrrothers interrupting them the first time around. Sander had asked him then, if Robbe minded that he had slept with both men and women before. Britt and him hadn't exactly been chaste, but even before that Sander had messed around with a few people from school. Robbe had just smiled, another glint In his eye has he leaned in. "I figure it might come in handy at some point that at least one of us knows what to do." Which had automatically derailed Sander's entire train of thought as he pulled Robbe down on top of him again in an enthusiastic kiss. They hadn't gone any further than some heavy petting, hips rutting into each other. Tonight's plan was to change that though, now they finally had their privacy.

As Robbe pushes him into the shower stall Sander can't help but think, now that he has Robbe before him, naked and skin glimmering from the water cascading down on the both of them, that there is some irony to the situation, because he's so overwhelmed he doesn't know what or where to touch first. His hands skim across Robbe's body, cataloguing his reactions; every shiver, every moan, every eyelid flutter, and commits it all to memory. He never wants to forget this, the taste of Robbe's necklace on his skin, the feeling of holding tight to the wet and tangled strands of his hair, the sound of Sander's name like a prayer on those lips. Sander gets lost in it all, and he is certainly in no hurry to make his way back.

After, they lie in bed still touching, caressing, holding on. Sander feels his mind jumping from the feeling of Robbe's fingers across his skin, to the tickle fo his hair against his face, to the scratch and noise of the sheets and back around again. 

Robbe.   
Robbe is here. 

He wants to be here with Robbe, and he can, he just has to focus. 

He's here with Robbe, and he can finally be himself and he's never been this happy. He wants to marry this man, wants to hold onto this feeling forever and share it with everyone he knows. 

They ought to have a big wedding. With a suitably big proposal. Robbe deserves nothing less. 

A white wedding, in the middle of summer, in case they want to put the whole naked thing into the works, you never know. He's keeping his options open. Robbe's expression doesn't much register, Sander is just happy to be drawn into his embrace again. Robbe loves him, even now, outlandish ideas and excitement spewing from his mouth as the thoughts come up. . They put on music, and Sander lets himself be cradled, getting lost in the feeling of Robbe wrapped around him. He hadn't noticed how fast his heart had been racing until he notices the uncomfortable way it's starting to match the beat of the song.

Sander wants this, only this. Wants to stay here in this moment and never leave. Never worry about his fucking medication or his fucking doctors ever again, just float, here with Robbe by his side and Bowie playing in the background. But that can't be, he knows. They had been quite clear upon his diagnosis. He'd always be taking medication, had to for it to stay manageable and keep up regularly with visits to his psychologist and and and... all these things he had to do, while all he wanted was this, to just freeze in his moment with Robbe. But he couldn't. He'd always have to go back. Back to the bad days, back to being separated by a wall no one could see, back to being ignored and reduced to just his illness. If only he could stop it. The whole thing.

Well, he could in a way. But he'd promised not to.

He sees he upset Robbe. But then Robbe doesn't know that he already promised not to, that it was just a joke because he used to think about it so much. Maybe that's why he doesn't laugh. 

They hold each other, kiss until they both doze off.

Sander's brain tends to be too loud to stay asleep for more than 5 hours. He knows it can't be morning yet. He's not tired though, and the buzzing under his skin is getting louder. The music had shut off a while back but he thinks he'd like it on, if only to drown out the sound. 

He smacks his lips. He's breathing heavier. He doesn't know if he's actually short of breath or if it's the buzzing that's making him anxious. 

Anxious?   
Is he? He'd been so happy, and Robbe is right there so he can't turn on the music. He can't be like this, Robbe is right there. 

Maybe it's the heat. They'd showered in hot water, turned on the heating to keep out the December chill from the top level of an old building and now he was too hot, which is why he felt like he couldn't breathe. He gets up, vaguely registers Robbe rousing slightly, opens the window and leans out. It's cold, but he feels like he can get a breath of air. It lasts all of a second. The buzzing doesn't stop, becomes louder beneath his skin and buries into his brain, making it even harder to focus on steadying his breath. 

Robbe.   
Robbe is here. 

He wants to be here with Robbe, and he can, he just has to focus. 

He walks back to the bed, makes himself lay down next to Robbe, feeling his arms settle around him and it's good, it's so good feeling him here but it's not stopping the buzzing, which has almost turned painful at this point. If he can just focus, and calm down and keep still, then Robbe can fall asleep and it will be morning and things will be better. He'll be here with Robbe and he'll be happy again like he was and maybe the pain will be gone, maybe the buzzing will have settled. Buzzing. it's everywhere's almost physically painful. Is he shaking? He might be shaking? Is that bothering Robbe? If he is, the other boy doesn't seem to notice, just holds onto him. Everything hurts. His skin, his brain, his stomach. 

Stomach.   
He should eat. 

He knew they'd eaten but he wants something else. Maybe that will stop the shaking, the buzzing. Something to distract him. Roomservice won't work at this hour, but they're in the center of town, something close-by. The Meir. They have good burgers there. He'll get something and be right back, it's not even that far. He thinks he tells Robbe, but doesn't stay to check for a response. Maybe Robbe could just sleep for a bit and he wouldn't even know. That's good, it's close anyway, he'll be back in a second. Sander gets up, finds the door by the scarce moonlight, and walks into the brightly lit hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning's still apply. Sander is not in a good headspace.

He wakes, several hours later, in a hospital bed. A regular hospital bed, he's spend time at a clinic before and it looks way different from the regular hospital rooms. He wakes early, it's not even 8 AM, his head is clearer, the buzzing has lessened and Sander knows exactly what happened. Well, not exactly, he knows he was with Robbe yesterday and that his mind feels like someone put it through a juicer, and he knows what caused that feeling. It's early, so he thinks he'll be spared some time, but at 8AM on the dot, his mother enters with a doctor in tow. Sander is exhausted, doesn't have much strength to argue, and doesn't much feel like he wants to. He agrees to being transferred to the psychiatric department. He's lucky. They have a spot and he'll be right next door. He'll be transferred within the hour. He closes his eyes, deciding he has no need to be awake for the paperwork anyway.

He's settled within the allotted timeframe, and the nurse leaves him with a promise the psychologist and psychiatrist on call will be by to speak with him that very afternoon. Sander hasn't got much energy to talk, so his While his Mother stays with him for a large part, they don't end up speaking much, but he takes solace in her presence. The conversations are draining, as they always are, and both end with a firm appointment for Monday penned down in the books. He sleeps the day away, and it isn't until Sunday morning that he feels sort of like a human again. 

Human, because his mind feels slightly more like his own, but also really shitty. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He doesn't know how much Robbe has been told in the meantime, but his hands tremble as he picks up his phone. As time passed, some details of Friday evening and night came back to him. It'd been such a good night, it had been going so well, and he'd ruined it. Lating in bed here alone only intensifies the feeling of the empty space were robbed laid in his arms less than 48 hours ago.

Sander takes a deep breath, and sends the lamest joke he probably has ever told, but it's the best he can come up with at the moment.

_The last hotel was better._

All he wants is some sort of acknowledgement, some sort of sign that Robbe had loved the night as much as he had, that he hadn't fully tainted that experience. He waits with baited breath as he sees the three dots that indicate Robbe is writing a response appear, but the answer doesn't come and the dots disappear after a short minute. Sander tosses the phone on the bed, curls up against the side of it and sobs.

He doesn't know how long passes between sending the message and the ping from his phone indicating he had received something, but his muscles protest as he flings himself towards the phone, fingers trembling ont he screen as he tries to unlock it desperately. When he sees the message he wishes he'd just stayed curled up in a ball. he can barely see the screen as he types his response. Robbe wants to stop. Sander knows what he means, but he wants- needs to see it spelled out. Can't bring himself to believe it otherwise.

And Sander does know, but he thought this time was different. That this thing with Robbe was different, that maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn't screw up as he always did.

_Why?_

He's thrown back years, to when his parents first sat him down to explain to him they were getting a divorce, and his Dad was moving out. Why? Why, why WHY? But he knows why. Because it's better like this. Because Sander is too big a problem for most people to handle and it's selfish of him to force himself on others. Because-

_Because there is no us._

Yeah. Exactly. There never should have been.

Mondays were never Sander's favourite. He finds a double therapy session does not make the day better. Britt trying to visit definitely doesn't make things better. He skips the group therapy that evening, consequences be damned.

Tuesday is worse, somehow. Tuesday he reads the Robbe's message after another harrowing hour long talk with his care-coordinator, and while part of him wants to be happy about it, a much larger part of him knows that it doesn't change anything. Not anything that matters. Because Sander is still Sander, still a liability and Robbe does not deserve to be saddled with all that baggage just because he's too good of a person to break up with someone while they're stuck in a mental hospital.

Britt visits with his Mom on Wednesday and Sander wants to scream, but because he doesn't want to upset his mom, he pretends to be indifferent to her presence. After 45 minutes of ignoring the tension, and filling the room with idle chatter, his Mom gets up to get a coffee and give them some alone time. As soon as the door shuts behind her, Sander turns a deadened stare in Britt's direction. 

"Why are you here?" He knows they put him on a pretty heavy-duty dose of medication to balance him out, a new cocktail that they're planning to lighten up on as time passes, and that new meds tend to exhaust him in more ways than one, so the flat tone could be ascribed to that, but really, it's about all the emotion he can muster to feel for the girl sitting opposite him at this point. 

"You're in a hospital; I'm here to support my boyfriend." Britt replies archly. The words aren't a challenge, they're not even her talking down at him. She says it simply as if stating a fact. It's outlandish enough that it stirs a reaction from Sander. "Why do you keep saying that? I broke up with you weeks ago, multiple times! I was dating someone else!" 

Was.

He knew he was going to say it, but acknowledging him and Robbe as something in the past still hurt. 

As if the emotion coming back to Sander's face had somehow triggered and equal response, he saw anger flashing across Britt's pretty features, contorting them. "You were obsessed! I've seen you, we've been through this before! You'd get hung up on something, ignore me for days, then come running back like nothing ever happened! And I let you! Because I know you are sick and can't help it. I stood by you, and took you back. Why should this be any different?"

"Because I told you so!" Sander exploded.

There. There it was. From the moment Britt had found out he had this disorder, she'd decided she knew best. And he'd let her. He'd believed her. No more. He knew that was not a life he could ever settle for. He'd had the best, he knew what it could be, to be listened to, accepted, loved wholeheartedly. He might never have another chance at it, but at least he had gotten to feel what it was like for a short while. He'd be grateful for that at least. 

If he'd bothered to look at her, he would have seen the unreadable look on her face. Sander is sad, and tired, and most of all tired of feeling sad. 

"Just... leave." She does. 

When his Mom returns she doesn't ask anything, just pulls him close and holds him. When he remembers to be, and he really ought to make more of an effort, he's really grateful for his Mom. 

The next days drag on. The tone of his psychiatrist and psychologist's conversations turn more urgent. They're worried about his self-image, how it seems to have taken a particularly harsh hit this time around, and his uncooperativeness where it concerns taking his medication correctly and timely. He rereads Robbe's message after every session. 

It's Friday evening. He's been laying on bed since dinner, once more skipping group in favour of the dark solitude of his room. The only source of light is the screen of his phone. Every time it shuts down, he thumbs the phone open just so he can stare at the words until the screen goes dark again. By now he imagines the words are at least partway burned into his retinas. Robbe is too nice of a person to break up with someone while they're in a mental hospital, and he won't do it after, cuz he'd still feel like that then. Sander knows what to do. It's just that he really doesn't want to.

Writing the words down doesn't work. His eyes keep tearing up and he can't focus on the screen, nor decide what to write. Voicemessage then. It still takes another 5 tries before he has settled on the words and he manages to get it out without starting to sob halfway through. When he's done, he puts the phone facedown beside him and stares up at the ceiling until exhaustion takes him under.

From the moment he sent the voice message on, he lasts exactly 36 hours until he cannot stand it any longer.

All of Saturday he stays inside his room. he'd been allowed some drawing supplies, and he's drawing Robbe before he even knows what face his hands are shading out. Like he knew that if there was now way to have him with him in real life, at least he could recreate him on paper. The first time he realised he was unconsciously sketching Robbe from memory he'd startled so much he'd dropped his pencil. He'd wanted to stop, stood up from his desk and walked away, but like a moth to a flame sander kept circling back picking up the pencil and continuing. He doesn't sleep that night, just sketches and erases, desperately trying to perfect the charcoal lines into the face he loves so much. As first morning light on Sunday hits his desk, the pencil falls out of his shaking hands and it isn't until he sees the drops land on the paper that he realises he's been crying. Hecan't anymore. It's too much. All the conversations, the constant questions. Sander doesn't want it anymore. He just.. he wants out. He just wants out.

And like a flash he remembers. Because he came willingly. And if you come willingly, they can't keep you here. He stands up, barely remembers to take his jacket, scrawls a quick message next to the drawing for his mother to find, and leaves. At the front desk he only says he's checking himself out, doesn't listen to the nurses trying to talk him into staying, just signs his name on the line and keeps moving. The sliding doors open, and he's out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final one!

After biking through the city, meandering from memory to memory and nearly getting hit by a car one too many times, Sander ends up at school. Because it was exam time, they kept the building open in the weekends to accomodate students working on any final projects. He was smart enough to bring a sleeping bag he'd stashed away in his student housing room and he sets up in one of the tiny studio spaces on the top floor. 

He starts drawing. 

Every memory, sense, sound, taste, flashing through his mind, alternating too quick for him to get a grasp on, so he copies it down. If there can be no them, and there can't be, he needs this. Needs proof it existed. Needs proof Sander loved and was loved. But capturing stardust in paper en charcoal was harder than he thought, so he kept going, kept trying, kept having to start over, grasping on to the memories of Robbe until they blurred together and only added to the roaring in his mind.

He thinks to himself of the promise he made, and couldn't keep. Not in this universe. In this universe, Sander is too fucked up for Robbe. He hopes it's- he is better in at least a few others. hopes he doesn't drag Robbe down in any of them too much. Robbe deserves better than that. He's done enough as is, remembering Robbe's voice when he openend his voicemail. when he'd heard the shaking message, he sent a text, hoping to convey to Robbe that it was better like this, that he didn't have to worry, he was safe, Sander was just trying to minimise the damage. He shuts his phone off after that, and hunches back over his sketches and time means nothing again. He can barely bring it in him to look up when he hears the door open, expecting a custodian telling him to get out of there. Only it's not. 

He'd barely noticed he'd covered the doors in drawings by now, but the failure of his numerous attempts to capture Robbe's likeness stood out starkly next to the real thing. He hopes against hope that Robbe will just turn around and close the door behind him, leaving Sander tucked away where he can't do any more harm. Instead Robbe steps fully inside, speaking and moving like he's approaching a startled deer, and Sander can't let him. He was being so good, staying away from Robbe, and Sander couldn't let him undo all the work, didn't want Robbe to see the humiliating remains of what was left when he had so truly and wholly crashed. He stumbled over to Robbe, mumbling, unseeing, but rather than leave as directed, Robbe pushes back and stands his ground. Hearing him nearly sends Sander to his knees, and he stumbles back, away, barely catches himself on the desk. Can't look at him, because telling him to leave was hard enough, and he doesn't think he can bear to actually watch him do it. 

"Just go." He orders, only to be met with a soft refusal. "Please." He resorts to begging, but Robbe's steadfast answer remains unchanged.

"You say that now." Sander gets out in between the breaths he has to struggle through, and he means, I can't expect you to deal with this, I don't want you to. You shouldn't have to.

"I'll be saying it tomorrow as well." Robbe is like a cliff, unmoving under the storm that is Sander.

"I don't believe you." I can't stand this, I can't deal with all this shit, and I'm the one causing it. how can I expect you to deal with it? To make a promise like that, when you have no way of knowing how bad it really gets?

"It's true." and Sander scoffs, still can't bear to look at him. When Robbe takes his hand, and he feels the press of warm lips, he is too startled to draw his hand away. 

Robbe had been scared, terrified out of his mind he'd hurt himself. He'd heard it over the voicemail, but being confronted with it now, in real time, only further confirms for Sander that he was right to remove himself from the equation. Now if only he could get Robbe to see that too.

He explains, or tries to. But his arguments are shut down by Robbe with such ease, as if there's no truth to them at all. Surely, Robbe doesn't believe he is worth all this hassle, Sander certainly doesn't.

But then Robbe asks him to look at him, a feat he hadn't truly managed since the boy set foot in the room and when he capitulates, because how do you refuse Robbe anything, he can't look away. Robbe isn't just stardust, he knows then. He is more, Sander can't decide whether it would hurt more to keep looking or to look away. And when Robbe says I love you, he means it. 

He means it, and Sander lets that sink in, reels at the thought that maybe, Robbe truly loved him as much as he loved Robbe.

But even if that was true, surely Robbe should be warned, ought to know, that no one, not even someone who loved Sander, was equipped to deal with all this shit. 

Sander loved Robbe. He couldn't stand the thought that, because Robbe loved him, Sander would only end up hurting him more and more and the thought of loosing that love and turning it to hatred was something Sander was certain he would truly never recover from. 

But even this was met with Robbe's steady refusal. "In this universe, I'm sticking with you." And Sander, stubbornness be damned, couldn't find another argument. When Robbe pulled him up to stand, he followed, limbs feeling unsteady, and head still spinning after being stuck in the same position for hours on end.

"Come."

Robbe had made up his mind, and Sander decided to give in and follow his lead. Minute by minute, he said. 

Not a solution to their problems, and maybe not really a plan, but for now, it sounded right. Minute by minute sounded like something Sander could wrap his head around. A minute of kissing. He liked that idea.

Stardust. Sander had known there was more than just reality to Robbe upon first laying eyes on him, but as their lips touched he was reminded of how truly magical he was. For the first time in what felt like aeons, everything went quiet in Sander's head. 

The sadness was still there, as was the pain, but there was room for more. The noise they made didn't consume him, at least not in this moment. He had room to feel Robbe there, in front of him. To think about this minute, and maybe even the next. He had room to realise that there was a path away from this, maybe even a better place for him to be, and room to know, that Robbe might be there with him. Room to realise, he was still fucked up, and none of this was going to be easy, but he wasn't facing it alone. 

"It's okay. I'm here."

And it was this realisation that sent him, eventually, crumbling to his knees. Robbe was there to catch him though. He was now, and would be in the future. So Sander let himself be caught, and cradled, softly guided to the ground where they settled, and Robbe held him tight as he sobbed into his shoulder. 

"I'm so happy I found you."

Sander can't speak in that moment, but he hopes Robbe knows, and if he doesn't Sander will tell him later.

"Thank you."

\------------------------------

  
When they move, hours might have passed again, Sander couldn't tell. His head is still fuzzy from the crying, and exhaustion from the sleep deprivation he's built up these last few days. Robbe moves them slowly, helps Sander pack up most of his things as they make their way, slowly, softly down the stairs and out of the school, past their bikes. They leave them there. Robbe won't even entertain the thought of putting Sander in traffic right now, and instead hey take a bus to Robbe's flatshare. It's quiet, and dark. They make it in unnoticed and Robbe helps Sander undress before settling into bed. Sander, on instinct, curls himself around Robbe and he's asleep before he has the chance to think about how tired he is.

He sleeps, in one long haul, until the sound of Robbe's alarm the next morning pierces through the veil of unconsciousness and rouses him slowly, no matter how quickly Robbe shuts off the alarm. He stays still, basking in the warmth and Robbe around him, until he feels Robbe get up.

"Are you leaving me?" It was meant to come out a joke, but when Sander realises he missed that mark by a mile, he can't quite bring himself to open his eyes just yet. He doesn't need to open them to hear the soft smile Robbe sends his way though.

"No. Not in this universe at least." And he comes closer again. He has an exam, and that's right, school is still a thing. Sander hadn't really considered it these past few days, but he can deal with Robbe going for a few hours. He asks more as a tease. He knows Robbe will be back for him.

He stays at the flatshare as his life slowly rights itself again. He calls his parents. Calls his doctor. Sets up a new appointment, and goes to pick up his meds at the apothecary with a solemn promise to take them more regularly and not mix them with any other recreational drugs. Milan is good to be around while he's home, and spending more time with Robbe helps. He goes to school to meet with a few teachers and come to some agreements, spends time with Robbe's friends and finds they get along. Jens is a good guy, and Sander is happy Robbe has him, although it took him all of three seconds to figure out that once upon a time Robbe might have wanted more than just a friend in Jens, especially after Robbe tells him the story about Aaron's insistence to know if he was fuckable or not.

Robbe spends a considerable amount of time making sure he's okay with the Christmas party, and if not he can just go lock himself in their room, and is he absolutely sure he's good? And Sander loves him more than ever. He's a little nervous, but he has met these people before, and Sander feels steadier now than he has in years. He's good. 

The party doubles as a sort of going away party for Robbe, as he'll be moving back the next few days in order to be at home in time for Christmas Eve. Sander is gonna miss spending all his time with Robbe, but he's ready to spent some time with his mom and clean out his own room. 

He meanders around the apartment some, but draws most of his enjoyment from seeing Robbe, finally free, stand amidst this mass of people he calls his friends and not be afraid to show who he is. Sander is reminded of the boy who had kept himself away from the centre of attention, too afraid of being caught out. And now here he is. Out, and proud, and happy. They lose and find each other in the group as the night goes on, always eventually gravitating back to each others arms. Sander has a good talk with Noor about school, even though the difference in their subject matter means they don't have class together. 

It's a good night. Sander follows Robbe when he spots him retreating to the edge of the room, tapping away on his phone. As he gets near he is just in time to spy the message Robbe sends his mom and the smile that overtakes his face is impossible to stop. He can't help but joke about meeting his Mom, but Robbe seems excited, and Sander can't wait to introduce them. 

It's a good night. The first of more to come. And there will be many. As plentiful as the stars above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! This is the first multi chapter fix I've ever finished and I'm so happy it's out in the world! I might be editing some in the following days but I was just so excited I finally got it out. Enjoy your sob content while we find out what this season is going to be all about!

**Author's Note:**

> Sander thinks harmful things about himself that I do not necessarily agree with, but were described in the way they were to illustrate the experience of mental illness from the person suffering it. Britt adds to this because her behaviour is insensitive to the issue. That being said, a quick disclaimer: I'd appreciate if we could avoid hate in the comments. My view on the characters is that they are firstly that, characters, and secondly, that they are actual children, teenagers, and am of the opinion that any teenager is quite possibly the worst version of themselves and should be approached as such. As the worst, but able to grow and develop and because they are young, should be given the chance to do so. Let me know what you think though! 💖


End file.
